


stagnate

by zi3l



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, I Don't Have Any Excuse, Implied Character Death, M/M, Magic, Will edit later, i took the prompt and RUINED it, really weird, suffer with the folks on dreamwidth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zi3l/pseuds/zi3l
Summary: They're supposed towait, and Finland will bring back Iceland; everything will be okay. But it isn't, and nobody taught Sweden how to hope.





	stagnate

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Norway, Sweden - Waiting for someone (Kalmar Union or 1700s). 
> 
> Time period sacrificed in favour of magic.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sweden ground ice between his fingers, because it  _ wasn’t supposed to be like this _ . 

‘Sweden,’ somebody said. He ignored it. 

Finland was supposed to bring back Iceland, and then they’d go back to whatever they did, hell, Denmark too, and it would be okay and— 

‘Sweden,’ the voice repeated. Sweden turned that time, staring impassively at the speaker. 

It was Norway. He didn’t know why he expected otherwise. 

The terrain shifted. The abyss dripped into night … three moons burned … just for a moment, they were caught up in a tsunami… 

A great wind … shouting, voices nearing … a familiar smell—they wee ripped away from that world … back to the night, an aurora ripping open the sky… 

Ice burning … stone, cold gravel and the world stained grey … a land of memories he’d rather not be in … 

A world like their own. Sweden would rather it not be. The terrain shuddered once, twice; sun shaking like a wildly swinging lightbulb. Finally, it settled It was still cold. 

They were back. Norway brought them. He was always good at that, finding things, leaving then, returning years later to suddenly drag them back like nothing had ever happened. 

Sweden, on the other hand, let realities slip by as he bottled them up until the pressure boiled over and suddenly he  _ wasn’t _ . 

“It isn’t healthy,” Denmark had said, chugging on Other beer, a blatant misuse of his power, “you might not come back.” 

_ That’s the point _ , Sweden had wanted to say. Instead, he grunted, and the others had interpreted it as they pleased.  

The present beckoned. 

‘You need to let out your feelings.’ Norway informed him (unhelpfully), sending streaks flickering across the sky. Not their world, then. ‘If you wait long enough, maybe they’ll come back.’ 

Sweden shrugged. 

‘Not an answer,’ Norway raised his eyes to Sweden. ‘You won’t break your ties if you continue like this.’ 

‘Aren’t you supposed to be  _ helping _ ?’ 

‘Aren’t you supposed to be  _ dealing with it _ ?’ 

Sweden growled. Through Other, a river twisted. Norway held his ground. The rush easily dispersed, tailing off into another starset. 

A moon combusted into blue. Norway had liked that, then. 

‘He told me to wait.’ 

Sweden’s resolution was absolute. What Norway didn’t tell him was: that it was awfully hard finding someone who’s ties were to twist and warp into Not. Even if Finland did find him, who knew how they’d get back. 

. 

Norway stole a kiss from Netherlands. It burned against the sun. On his hip, a compass spun, never settling. No true north. Norway snatched the compass and lay it on the table, metal chains ties spanning the maps scattered there. 

‘Any luck?’ 

‘Iceland hasn’t cut his ties. Finland must have…’ The atmosphere changed shifted, suncatcher stabbing against the rays. ‘Stupid! I should have—’ 

Netherlands put his hand against Norway’s. The ice calmed, melting almost. The room reverted, slower this time, dragging through a cerulean sky … ozone, fresh on the tongue … a great shuddering sigh. 

‘The sastrugi are shaped by the wind, but it’s dependent on the snow.’ 

‘That doesn’t sound like you; where did you learn that?’ 

‘Iceland.’ The light leached from the room. 

‘Shit,’ Norway breathed, ‘I need a smoke.’ 

‘He’s restless. He’ll come back, once he’s run out of places to go.’ 

‘When! Ned,  _ when _ ?’ 

Iceland was gone. The compass would not settle. 

. 

Denmark’s life used to be simple. Eat, sleep, drink, whatever suited him. Life sucked, do whatever the fuck you wanted. Easy. Until it  _ wasn’t _ . 

The best he could, knowing... 

‘Denmark.’ Norway held up the compass. ‘We need your assistance.’ 

‘I know,’ he said, chugging just to see the flicker of repulsion spasming Norway’s face. He struck a pose. ‘But do you  _ want _ me?’ 

Best to make the most of a dark situation, but then he’d heard it all before. Old news. 

‘Can you give me a location?’ 

Denmark almost laughed. 

‘You take  _ one look _ at that thing and ask me again.’ 

‘Then what should we do?’ 

‘What did I already tell you?  _ Wait _ .’ Denmark drew himself up, and leaned in Norway’s face. His third time telling Norway that; Norway’s second hearing it. 

Norway scowled, shifting the room so there was space between them. An indirect “fuck you.” 

‘Pay attention next time, honey.’ Denmark’s beer filled. ‘I hate to repeat the same information.’ 

He remained where he was, whilst Norway shifted and left. 

. 

Sweden waited. He waited and waited and waited. Time stagnated, curled around him. 

The river tore through the sky, spitting out worlds and  _ twisting them, mangling them, Sweden don’t you see what you’ve done, you’re _ — 

He thought of Finland. Bright, happy Finland, saying “it’s going to be okay,” even as the ties tore at Sweden whilst he cried. 

He wasn’t supposed to cry.  

The memory morphed. 

He was on a beach, or was it a pub, the night Iceland split. For a second, he could  _ feel _ how everything was so alien, so, so  **wrong** , how he wanted it to stop.  

But then he didn’t. Because try as he may, he was only imaging Ice’s pain. 

“I’ll look for him,” Finland had said, “wait for me.” 

It was awfully lonely waiting, even with the memories. 

. 

‘It didn’t go well,’ Netherlands remarked, watching Norway tear up the kitchen for something to eat. 

‘He’s lucky,’ Norway grumbled, mutilating the cheese, ‘that he’s  _ free _ .’ 

‘What did he say?’ 

‘ _ Wait _ ,’ Norway mocked. Half-spat. ‘Sweden’s  _ dying _ , Iceland can’t come home, Finn’s missing and he  _ doesn’t give a shit. “Wait _ !” he said, like that will  _ do _ anything.’ 

‘What of Sweden?’  

Norway buried his face into the other man’s shoulder. 

‘We’ll have to kill him before it happens.’ and Finland would come home, bring Iceland with him, and— 

Something broke. The stars drained themselves of their vibrancy. 

. 

The suffocation was in the silence. The damn was building up—"hot damn,” Finland would say, smiling and choking down a laugh—and Sweden  _ drowned _ . 

Sweden needed to run, but “wait for me,” compelled him to stay.  

He cursed their ties. He wasn’t the first, but it was a first for him. He’d once tried to passively-aggressively break free, but never  _ cursed _ . 

He screamed silently. The water roared with him; he was caught in its flow. 

He ripped through worlds, an ugly twisting beast. No idea of the goal, until he came to rest at Denmark’s feet, or Denmark called him, it didn’t matter: he was wet and cold and exhausted. 

‘Take me away.’ 

Denmark blinked. Smirked. 

‘Another reason for Nor to hate me. It makes it easier, I guess.’ 

. 

Iceland was cold. Tired. Another place. But it wasn’t right  _ wasn’t right  _ **_wasn’t right—_ **

He swore, raking his fingers down his eyelids. He couldn’t breathe. His ties chocked him. 

He needed Den, Sve but it was  _ all wrong _ . 

‘Where next?’ He screamed, ‘I’ve travelled  _ fucking worlds _ but  _ somehow _ it’s  _ never right _ .’ 

A path opened up. 

It was bright. It was dark. Within it, a familiar figure: 

‘Finn.’ 

~~all wrong all wrong all wrong~~

‘Come away with me,’ Finland smiled, but oh, why was he crying?

‘Do you know the way back?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Shit shit shit.’ Iceland stumbled to Finn. The man gripped him, marking Iceland’s arms with his fingers. ‘We’re supposed to be lost, Norway’s supposed to find us, but we’re  _ not  _ lost, this is wrong it’s—’ 

‘We’ll wait it out,’ Finland whispered, drawing soft circles into Ice’s back. ‘With time, it’ll…’ 

It wasn’t sleep, but the pain of nothingness soothed the old ache. 

. 

Time didn’t touch Denmark. Tomorrow, everything would be fine; the day after, the wound ripping open with reinvigorated strength.  

It was chaotic. It was exuberant. It was intoxicating. One hell of a drug.  

Denmark  _ loved _ it. 

If spirits were strong, then he had no word for what  _ this  _ felt like.  

So he kicked back, relaxed, and enjoyed the ride. He didn’t expect company (not yet), so Sweden surprised him.  

“Take me away,” he had said, barely holding onto form. “Take me away, it hurts, I want Finn, I want to forget.” 

Denmark took him away. 

. 

Norway found him. Sweating, shaking,  _ mumbling _ , but that was because he was too jacked up to fall into character. 

‘I’ll be back soon,’ he promised. ‘Hold on.’ 

The shifts were rough and shearing. He tore through. 

A dead butterfly. Glacier. Abandonment freeze. Cold wild hot. Netherlands back again rush hurry. 

‘Here here here,’ Netherlands whispered, ‘I’ve got you you’re here stay you’ve got to—’ 

‘For fuck’s sake, he isn’t  _ dead _ .’ 

Denmark. 

Netherlands pulled Sweden closer. Norway scowled. 

‘I’m here to help.’ 

The world ripped back and blue. They were at Norway’s house. 

‘ _ Wait _ ,’ Denmark iterated. It was his first time saying that, Norway’s third second hearing it. ‘Just hold on. Don’t do anything stupid.’ 

‘You said it before.’ 

‘Did I?’ Denmark shrugged. He nodded towards Sweden. ‘He’ll have a shitty time in the morning. I’ll find them.’ 

Then he left. 

. 

Finland waited. Iceland tried to find what wasn’t wrong. Sweden recovered. Netherlands and Norway held hands. Denmark was in another time 

. 

When one knew they were dead, it left a rather peculiar feeling. It gnawed at Denmark, taunting him. In the strictest terms, he had died long, long before this happened. 

But for him, it was later. He slipped in and out of time (it refused to form a solid grasp on him), and how would anyone know? 

Nobody would  _ could _ mourn him, because how would they know? He knew the ending. It was bitter, like an old friend. Later (too late) he had realised it would be better they hated him. 

Denmark found the two. Clutching other, in the safe, welcoming arms of Other. 

He debated joining them. For the night, let everything slip away with them. But they’d stir when he left. 

‘Idiots,’ he muttered. ‘The world ends tomorrow.’ 

But it wouldn’t, not for them. 

.

Sweden stayed with Norway and Netherlands. They ate together. Crossed off days on the calendar together. Screamed when there was nothing left to hope together. 

‘Are you going to kill me yet?’ Sweden asked, after some part of the damn collapsed. Realities scattered, corruption bleeding into the house.  

It wasn’t his fault, Norway realized. The ties were their burdens to carry, without them they’d fade.  

‘No,’ Norway said. ‘We’re going to make peace with each other, wait, then slip patiently into Not.’ 

‘Will they understand?’ 

‘Ice is with Finn,’ Sweden rasped, ‘Finn’s ties are fragile. They’ll understand.’ 

The three slipped peacefully into Not. 

. 

 

The second time Denmark said “wait,” a tankard had narrowly missed his head. Sweden was frozen, the ghost of beer haunting his fingers. Norway tensed, a blizzard hailing outside. 

It was good. It was good they hated them. It’d make the wound heal quicker, why  _ wouldn’t they realize he was dead, they were all dead, Denmark had  _ **_seen_ ** _ them, why why why why why _

‘Den...’ Finland was crouched behind Sweden. ‘Den, I know you’re angry but—’ 

Time tore itself away, Denmark a victim to its whims. 

. 

The house was silent. Too silent, even when the world stopped jerking (there were less than usual,  _ why _ was that?), no static whispering at their eardrums. Iceland and Finland trekked snow, but that in itself felt like sacrilege.  

The compass lay dead on the table. Half the maps were missing.

It was wrong  _ it was wrong  _ **_it was wrong._ **

‘What now?’ Iceland asked. His voice tore dissonant into the dark. Wrong. 

~~.wrong wrong wrong   ~~

Sweden wasn’t there, Norway and Netherlands absent.  

~~ wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong.  ~~

‘Where are they?’ 

‘Waiting for us.’ 

‘What should we do?’ 

‘ _ Join them _ .’ 

. 

The world ended, before Denmark died (but afterwards, too). 

 


End file.
